I am rolled and rolled
By the waves of times
and kicked and kicked up hither and thither.
The beautiful morning time
Comes up as a child
takes me holding my hands
Yet, the evening comes slapping my cheek
and drags me somewhere
How many evenings, holding and gulping
How many morning times in its mouth
Yonder, seen at an entrance
The cruel night, shakes up my shoulder
Telling me it is nothing but your way
and asking,
‘Get up, go and drink the liquor in the cup and
Enjoy with others'
Blocking the way on my mission.
Yes, I see a form of address omnipresent
The fact that never change
Neither it nor that
Let my prayers break open its doors
and help me to reach the goal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem